


La Lealtad

by DeskGirl



Category: Generator Rex
Genre: Birthday, Bonding, Comfort, Family, Friendship, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeskGirl/pseuds/DeskGirl
Summary: It’s a special day: the anniversary of finding a cure, and someone’s birthday as well. On this day, loyalties have been betrayed, defined, and hopefully, with Rex’s help, mended. (Set slightly after the TV series)





	La Lealtad

    Turbulence shook the Providence jet, rattling equipment and bones alike. The plane full of agents was en route to the city of Mantua; a massive explosion had been recorded just off the coast of Cuba in the Gulf of Mexico. Local and international news channels suggested it was a large meteor that had made it through the atmosphere, but Providence had eyes on the sky and hadn’t detected anything.  
  
    The pilot spoke up on the jet’s speakers, the roar of the engines nearly drowning her out. “Hope no one minds a few bumps. I’m getting reports that we’re in for some bad weather all down the coast until we hit Florida, and I’m not going to be able to get above it, but it won’t take long. Also, we’re out of peanuts.”  
  
    Rex grinned. So the new pilot wasn’t Wade or Beasly. But she’d been trained by them, and she was funny, which landed her squarely in Rex’s good favor. He unbuckled and made his way—rather unsteadily and at one point requiring the use of his smack hands—to the cockpit seats, leaning in so he could see the pilot and Six riding copilot.  
  
    “How long’s this going to take?” Rex shouted over the noise. “I can feel my kidneys and my spleen square dancing.”  
  
    “We’re going Mach 2. That’ll get us to Mantua in about an hour if the weather doesn’t ground us. Now sit down before you hurt yourself.”  
  
    Six turned around. “You heard the pilot, Rex.”  
  
    “Yeah, yeah, orders are not suggestions. I know.” Rex gave Six’s shoulder a pat before heading back to his seat. An hour wasn’t bad. Better than the flights to Hong Kong Base. Rex slipped a hand into the bag in the seat beside him, looking for his noise-cancelling headphones (the ones he technically wasn’t supposed to have anymore, since he’d abused the privilege in a number of ways White Knight didn’t approve of).  
  
    His hand wrapped around a box, the sharp wooden edges pressing into his palm. He shifted it aside for now. He’d pass it to Six once the jet hit the Gulf, and the ride smoothed out.

***

    Providence, now funded by the United Nations and operating as a global defense program, was due for some serious updates. Several bases had fallen into disrepair, and even Headquarters technology was outdated. Not acceptable for an organization focused on being one step ahead of terrorists and mad scientists. HQ was the first to get a makeover, which included collecting the rubble of past battles that had fallen down into the ravine it sat over.  
  
    For several weeks, construction crews had been dragging up everything from crashed vehicles to entire walls blasted out of the building by Van Kleiss’s assault with the Keep. To his mild dismay, Rex spotted quite a bit of his old room among the refuse that was dragged up to surface level. Had White Knight really had to blow the place up? Why couldn’t he have picked another room?  
  
    The crew on hand ignored Rex, letting him pull out odds and ends that he recognized. He’d managed to salvage a couple dusty books—thank goodness for hard covers—as well as a non-regulation winter coat that he was pretty sure he could fix with enough thread and a miracle.  Rex pulled out a video game box, hoping the disc might have survived, but no luck. He tossed it aside with a deflated basketball.  
  
    Something in the rubble pile glinted in the late morning sun. Had the disc made it after all? Doubtful, but he wanted a look. Rex shifted a couple rocks out of the way, causing whatever he’d seen to slip further into the pile. He kept digging until he finally got a hand around the object and pulled it out. He’d been lucky enough to grab the safe end of what appeared to be the tantō Six had given him. The handle was nothing but a chunk of charred wood held in place by its bamboo pin. Even as Rex held it, the pin snapped and the wood crumbled in his hand, leaving him with nothing but the blade. Still, it had survived, and that in itself was amazing.  
  
    A smile spread across Rex’s face. He remembered when he’d been “breached” into the future, and all that was left of his room was that stupid red ball. He’d made some comment or other about starting from scratch, but it seemed he was wrong.  
  
    It dawned on him, though: someone else had to start from scratch. What had happened to Six’s tantō anyways? He needed to talk to White.

***

    The jet had reached the Florida Keys, well out of the crosshairs of the vicious storms that had kicked up along the coast to the North. The pilot hadn’t told anyone; they had all guessed it when their teeth stopped clacking and the jet didn’t sound like it was being shaken apart anymore. A couple agents unbuckled to get more comfortable, and one guy pulled up his mask to see his book better. Rex had to congratulate him on managing to read during the flight at all.  
  
    Now was as good a time as any. Rex pulled the elongated box out of his bag and headed back up to the cockpit. The view out the windshield was breathtaking, even to someone as used to travel as Rex. The ocean stretched out before them in jewel tones, glistening turquoise and aquamarine where the water became shallow. Small land masses dotted the horizon, threads of roads connecting handfuls of islands, and boats of all sizes bobbed on the water, nothing but specks from this height.  
  
    Six turned in his seat. “Is something wrong?” Of course he’d prefer to assume Rex was bothering him for an actual, professional reason. Hey, he could hope.  
  
    “Nah, we’re good back here. I just remembered I got something for you.”  
  
    One eyebrow arched over the rim of Six’s glasses. “Can’t it wait?”  
  
    “It’s kind of important you get it today, and if we end up fighting aliens or giant robots or mutant monsters from the deep, who knows how long that could take?”  
  
    “Rex. Aliens?”  
  
    “Hey, it’s happened before,” Rex defended. “Anyways, White said it had to be today.”  
  
    That got Six’s attention. “White gave you something to deliver to me?”  
  
    “Yeah. On the way out he ordered me by his office and had this waiting for me.” Rex offered up the slim wooden box.

***

    Rex punched in the code on the telescreen to contact White Knight. A few seconds passed before the screen flickered to life, White Knight glaring at Rex over the top of a dossier he was reading.  
  
    “Rex, I do not have time for your antics right now.”  
  
    “Nice to hear from you, too, White,” Rex said, brushing off the man’s sour demeanor. “I had some questions for you.”  
  
    “If they aren’t related to Providence business, then they can wait until later.” Without so much as a goodbye, White Knight closed the channel.  
     
    Now that wouldn’t do. As far as Rex was concerned, his life was Providence business. He wasn’t about to be ignored or put on the back burner. Rex pressed a hand to the screen, accessed Headquarters computers, and reopened the channel himself.  
  
    White Knight glanced up, confusion apparent on his face. “Rex!” He slapped his papers down. “You are not permitted to do that! Hacking my office is a serious breach of—”  
  
    Rex cut him off. “I got some questions about Six.”  
  
    “Then go ask him.”  
  
    “It’s about something he doesn’t remember. You’re the only person who might be able to help me out here.”  
  
    White sighed. As the agent’s former partner, he was admittedly the closest person to Six during the years that he’d forgotten, when they were both nothing but hired mercenaries for Providence—back when they’d worked in the field together, trusting one another with their lives. That felt so long ago. “All right, Rex. You’ve got five minutes. Use them wisely. Then I expect you to leave me alone so I can work.”  
  
    Rex had been prepared for more of a fight. Then again, he and White had a better working relationship than they used to. Amazing what being forced into the field and fighting alongside each other could do. Sure, they weren’t friends, but mutual respect was hard to earn, too, and Rex knew it. “All right, cool. So the thing is Six used to have this tantō, right?”  
  
    White Knight raised an eyebrow. “And?”  
  
    “Thing is he doesn’t seem to have it anymore.” Rex spread his hands out. “I know Providence boxed and chucked a lot of stuff when you guys left and Six’s room became a storage closet. I think that’s when it got lost.”  
  
    “For all you know it’s in his room,” White deadpanned.  
  
    “It’s not in his room.”  
  
    “You went through his things?”  
  
    “No, Bobo went through his things. I was the distraction.”  
  
    White hid his face in his hand. “Why is this so important to you, Rex?”  
  
    “It’s just.” Rex stopped and thought about what he wanted to say. Admittedly, thinking beforehand was not something he did often, unless it was important. But this was. “Six doesn’t seem to remember having it at all. I know it meant something to him back before we scrambled his memory. My first birthday—that I can remember, anyways—he gave me a matching blade. He’s given me things in the past, but that was my first real gift, and he made it seem so special. I don’t care about the tantō itself, but I don’t want him to lose whatever it is that knife meant to him.” Rex shifted his weight. “Uh, you know?” he added nervously. He wasn’t a fan of talking feelings with White. It typically ended with him getting shot down.  
  
    White had shifted as he listened to Rex, now resting his chin on clasped hands—a very thoughtful look from the usually exasperated head of Providence. “What exactly do you want me to do about it?”  
  
    “Nothing. Just tell me what you know about it.”  
  
    “There’s not much to tell, Rex. It was a birthday gift, that’s all.”  
  
    “Six has a birthday?”  
  
    “Everyone has a birthday.”  
  
    “Yeah, but I mean, he celebrates it?” When Rex imagined Six’s life before Providence—his name, his age, what city or country he came from—he liked to picture a top secret folder being pulled out of a CIA filing cabinet, and being opened to nothing but blacked out pages. Six was a ghost.  
  
    White shook his head. “No, he doesn’t celebrate it. Six wouldn’t celebrate the birth of his own firstborn child.”  
  
    Yet another thing Rex couldn’t imagine.  
  
    “So how come you know it was a birthday gift?” Rex asked.  
  
    “Because I gave it to him.” White broke eye contact. “It was just a small thing. At least, we treated it like it was. That was the same day we found you, actually.” He caught Rex’s gaze again. “Funny how things play out.”  
  
    Rex caught the bitter undertone to White’s words. That “small thing” had been a gift symbolizing brotherhood and loyalty, and the very same day Six had drawn his sword on White to save Rex’s life.  
  
    “Do you blame me for what happened with Six?” Rex asked.  
  
    White’s eyes widened, and he turned his head away. He licked dry lips before speaking. “No. I don’t blame either of you. You were a child, and Six was a mercenary tired of fighting a battle with no end in sight. I used to resent you for what happened, but not anymore, Rex.”  
  
    Rex watched as White went through a range of small motions, seemingly lost for what to do next. How old was White? Rex had never gotten a really good look at him before the accident in the dissection lab, and his pale features were so deceiving now. One thing was for sure: he looked tired.  
  
    “I’m sorry, White.”  
  
    “I just said I don’t blame you.”  
  
    “I mean for bringing up bad memories.” It wasn’t fair: all the different ways White had lost his friend, first to differing beliefs, then to physical separation, and finally to a nasty case of amnesia. It was like a bad telenovela, except Rex was the only Latin American.  
  
    “Yes, well, your five minutes are up, Rex.” It had been nine. “Anything else?”  
  
    “No. That’s good. Thanks, White.”  
  
    Again he hung up without a word.

***

    Six looked at the box in Rex’s hand, not taking it yet. “Did White say what it was or why he was giving it to me?”  
  
    “Nope.” Rex shook his head. “He just said it was important you get it today, and that you’d know why. Then he told me to get my scrawny delinquent self to the jet. I might be paraphrasing.” There was no wrapping paper or ribbon; it looked singularly ordinary. A slip of folded white paper had been affixed to the lid. Six took the box from Rex and read the impromptu card. There wasn’t much to read. It simply had the codename Six across the top, and inside, the codename White. Definitely White Knight’s handwriting, but that was all it revealed.  
  
    Rex watched as Six took the lid off and withdrew the blade from its velvet lining; he studied Six’s face, committing the moment to memory. Six unsheathed the weapon to examine its freshly sharpened and cleaned blade, and while his expression didn’t change, his eyes revealed a quiet thoughtfulness. It could’ve also been a trick of the light on his shades, but Rex preferred to think it was the former.  
  
    “So what’d he get you?” Rex asked. “A knife?”  
  
    “It’s called a tantō,” Six answered, having barely caught the question over the noise of the jet engines. “It’s the ceremonial blade of a samurai warrior.”  
  
    The words curled in Rex’s chest, warm and familiar. He reached between the cockpit seats to point at the blade near the hilt. “Is that… writing?” His words echoed in his ears.  
  
    “Bushido symbol of loyalty,” Six answered. He fell quiet as he examined his gift. He’d said more the first time. The tantō had meant something else then. Rex knew the words by heart—even heard them in Six’s voice when he thought about it: “It means, whether for good or ill, our fates will follow the same path.” This wasn’t about Rex, though. This was about Six and White. This was White reaching out to Six and reminding him that despite their differences and distance, they were friends, and they would stand by each other through thick and thin, through the world ending and hope dying and any other challenge life might throw at them.  
  
    “Rex.” The pilot tapped Rex’s arm, and the moment that had hung frozen in the air between past and present shattered. They were on a Providence fighter jet flying over 2,000 km/h to Cuba to fight unknown entities. Rex had his money down on robots. Robots were popular lately. “It’s easier to do my job if you’re sitting in your seat where you belong,” the pilot said.  
  
    Rex looked over to Six, who was tucking White’s gift into an inner pocket of his jacket. “I’m not about to argue with the person flying the plane,” Rex said, giving the pilot a winning smile. She could have told him to get out of the cockpit at any time, but she’d waited. He definitely liked her.  
  
    Rex climbed back to his seat and buckled up again, settling in for the rest of the flight. “Happy Birthday, Six.”

***

    As a teenager living in a high security military base with too much time on his hands, one of the first things Rex had done was figure out how to get out of said base, and gain access to just about everything he shouldn’t. That meant learning codes to doors, the schedules of full time Headquarters agents, and how to forge signatures.  
     
    Signatures were pretty easy. Forgeries were obvious if done right side up;  handwriting was like a fingerprint. But turn the signature upside down, and it was just a bunch of loops. Easily copied.  
  
    Rex double checked the notepad paper he’d salvaged from the trash, holding it up against the small white card he’d been writing on. The words matched perfectly. Good thing White was so succinct. Six wouldn’t question the card having no message to it.  
  
    With a small bit of rolled tape, Rex attached the card to the top of the wooden box that sat on his desk. It had been a lot of work finding out where Six had Rex’s tantō made. It had been even harder asking the weapon smith to make a new hilt and sheath for the blade. Especially since the guy only spoke Japanese. Rex had worried that it wouldn’t be finished in time, but he’d managed to pick up the restored tantō just under the wire.  
  
    Red lights flashed overhead, and a voice started barking orders over the speakers. “Level 3 alert. Seismic activity off the coast of Cuba. Impact detected. First Response Team prepare to leave in fifteen minutes from Hangar 2.”  
  
    Whoops, that was him. Rex pulled his jacket on and headed for the door. The thought of Six’s birthday stopped him in his tracks. Turning to look at the box on the desk, Rex wavered. Would they be back in time? It was already noon, which meant half the day was gone, and fighting bad guys took time.  
  
    The gift wouldn’t mean the same thing if it was a day late, and he wasn’t waiting another year. That decided it. Rex grabbed his backpack off the floor and slipped the tantō case inside.  
  
    Six was waiting on the tarmac when Rex got down to Hangar 2. “Cutting it close, Rex. We’re prepped to fly in one minute.”  
  
    “Close? That’s plenty of time!”  
  
    “You’re normally the first one down here, ready for action.” Uh oh, Six had his suspicious face on. “What were you up to?”  
  
    Rex bit back the reflexive “Nothing!” that would have given him away. Don’t hem and haw, don’t glance around. Act natural. Rex ran a hand through his hair and readjusted his goggles to stall for just a second and cover up his pause. “Last minute orders from the big guy. You know how White likes to chew me out. And if it’s not him, then it’s Holiday reminding me not to go overboard. You all worry way too much.”  
  
    “You make us worry,” Six replied flatly.  
  
    “Maybe I do it on purpose,” Rex suggested as he climbed the ramp into the jet. He’d meant it as a joke, but the thought made him pause.  
  
    Six followed close behind. “What reason could you possibly have for making people worry, Rex?”  
  
    The answer seemed simple once Six asked the question. It was to remind Rex that the people in his life cared enough to worry. Because that’s what _familia_ did: they looked after one another.  
  
    Rex looked over to Six before quickly pasting a grin on his face. His just kidding smile. “Because I like the attention.”  
  
    “Of course you do.” Six passed Rex to get to the cockpit. From behind, Rex could see Six’s shoulders relax as some unnamed tension left him and everything fell into its usual rhythm. Just another day saving the world.  
  
    “Oh. Rex.” Six looked back over his shoulder. “Happy birthday.”


End file.
